Wrong Things, Right Things
by Jayne Foyer
Summary: When assassins are sent to dispose of the Kazekage's heir, Shikadai Nara, his parents devise a plan to keep him safe. Said plan may or may not involve a permanent move to Suna. Shikadai doesn't like the plan, but if it's the only thing that'll keep him safe, he doesn't get a choice.


Naruto held the printed page in his hand. Frowning, he asked, "When did you get this?"

"Half an hour ago," answered Shikamaru, standing in the Hokage's office. The usual lazy grimace on his face was replaced with something tight and serious, his expression pulled taut. "It was disguised as a personal communication from her brother, which is why it didn't come to you first. Just in case."

Lowering the page, Naruto looked up at Shikamaru. "In case of what?"

Shikamaru didn't answer, knowing that Naruto knew precisely what he meant.

After a beat of silence, Naruto leaned back in his seat, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. "You really think there's a Suna assassin here in Konoha, high up enough that he could intercept confidential communications?"

Stiffly, Shikamaru gave an unconvincing shrug. "I think anything's possible, Naruto."

Unhappily, Naruto observed his friend. "Why would anyone want to hurt Shikadai, anyway?" he asked. "He's just a kid, and he's never even been to Suna.

"Which is exactly the problem," answered Shikamaru, with only the beginning hint of frustration. It was a sign of how distressed he really was, that there was no trace of reluctance of boredom in his stance. "He's heir to the Kazekage, but he'll be a shinobi of Konoha. He knows nothing about the Hidden Sand."

"So what if he's related to Gaara? That doesn't automatically mean they'll make him Kazekage."

"In Suna," answered Shikamaru, speaking slowly, as if to a child, "it does. There've always been anti-Kazekage factions, and Shikadai's birth was fuel on the fire."

Although obviously troubled, a flicker of annoyance passed over Naruto's face. Only half-serious, he grumbled, "And you and Temari didn't think about this _before_ you decided to have a kid?"

Shikamaru didn't bother deigning this with a reply.

Running a hand through his blond hair, Naruto continued, "But why now? Shikadai's eleven years old now-"

"Ten," corrected Shikamaru, quietly.

"-so that makes a whole decade of nothing. Why is there suddenly assassins after him, out of the blue?"

"It's not out of the blue," countered Shikamaru, with a hint of indignation. "It's no secret there are those in the Hidden Sand who think Temari is a traitor to her people, and my son an illegitimate heir."

With some suspicion, Naruto peered up at Shikamaru. "The Kazekage really is inherited, in Suna?" he asked skeptically. "You're not making that up?"

"Why would I make that up, Naruto!"

"Okay, okay! Just asking!"

"Look," continued Shikamaru. "Recently there was an attempted coup in the Hidden Sand. Gaara managed to suppress it, and things have returned to normal there, but he exiled the traitors. And now he's got word that they're on their way here, to kill the potential future Kazekage."

Naruto nodded, seriously. "We'll open an investigation right away," he said, sounding much more like a proper Hokage. "You should lead it yourself. You can focus all of your energy on this; I won't assign you anything else until we know Shikadai is safe."

"I'm sorry," said Shikamaru. "But that's not why I'm here, Hokage."

Another pause, but this one was full of potential energy, tension Naruto didn't understand.

Shikamaru said, "I would like to formally tender my resignation as your advisor."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Shikamaru-!"

"I don't care about an investigation," he said bluntly. "I don't care about my duties, not to you, hell – not even to the Village, not really. I care about my son. And as of now, my sole duty is to protect him."

For a moment, Naruto stared at his old friend, mouth slightly agape.

And then he closed his mouth and lowered his gaze. He shook his head. A slight smile appeared tugged at his lips.

"Shikamaru," began Naruto wryly, glancing up. "Come on. Tell me you don't think so poorly of me that you'd expect me to let you take care of your son alone. There's nothing – _nothing_ – as important as the future generation of the Village."

"He's doesn't belong to this village," answered Shikamaru, without hesitation. "Not entirely."

Naruto shrugged this away. "A child is a child. And when it's the son of my most trusted advisor and one of my best friends – don't worry. We'll assemble a team, and make sure we have eyes on him at all times." He paused, then added, "I'll post a guard outside your home, too, and come to think of it, Temari and your mother should have some protection as well."

"That won't be necessary," said Shikamaru, but as the realization of Naruto's determination washed over him he seemed to deflate slightly, as if finally letting out a breath he'd been holding all day. "Temari can look after herself, and the rest of the Nara clan has already agreed to look out for my mother. They'll guard the house too."

Taking this in stride, Naruto continued, "So we'll bulk up security at the Academy. The kids are close to graduation anyway – I'm sure Iruka-sensei will come up with a good reason for all the jonin hanging around."

Shikamaru didn't say anything at first. His heart seemed to pump slowly in his chest, in tune to the swell of emotion rising in his throat.

"Naruto," said Shikamaru.

The Seventh Hokage looked up, and grinned at his friend.

"Thank you," he muttered.

If Temari were there, Shikamaru thought, this would be about the time she rolled her eyes, punched him on the shoulder, and called him a crybaby.

* * *

"Everyone," said Iruka, standing before the class with a young woman beside him, her scarlet eyes flashing along with her grin. "This is Mirai Sarutobi. She'll be joining the class for a few sessions – maybe until graduation. She is a very accomplished jonin, so I know you'll all work very hard to impress her! Right?"

As most of the class gave a spirited, "Right, Iruka-sensei!" Mirai caught Shikadai's eye. She gave him a wink, and in return, he gave a lethargic nod of his head.

Beside him, Boruto nudged him in the side. "How do you know Konohamaru's cousin!"

"Hm? Oh," said Shikadai, glancing around at the other boy. "My dad was her teacher. She's kind of like my troublesome older sister. The real question," he added, looking away from Boruto and around at Chocho, who was halfway through a bag of chips, "is – why are there suddenly so many jonin posted around the Academy?"

"Huh?" asked Boruto. "Jonin?"

From the row in front of them, Sarada Haruno glanced around, catching Shikamaru's eye.

"Hn," she said. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "And I thought I was the only one who noticed."

Shikadai, who didn't like Sarada that much, just rolled his eyes and ignored her.

After the Academy let out, Mirai caught Shikamaru outside of class and offered to walk him home. Despite a very convincing sigh to indicate what a drag it all was, he agreed, and they headed down the familiar route to the Nara residence.

Kicking a rock along before him, Shikadai asked, "So, Mirai – are you training to be a sensei?"

"What?" Mirai gave a small snort of laughter. "No, no way – not that it isn't a very noble calling, but I've got other important work to take care of first."

"Oh," said Shikadai mildly. "Like Anbu?"

" _Wh_ \- no!" answered Mirai immediately, twisting around to catch Shikadai in his tracks. He stopped and looked up at her innocently – this was when he was glad he had inherited his mother's big eyes, because unlike his father's, those blue-greens always made adults melt. Mirai watched him warily for a moment longer, then turned back and resumed walking. "No," she repeated. "Besides, I couldn't tell you if I was."

"You just did," Shikadai pointed out.

With a frustrated sigh, Mirai asked, "Please tell me your dad told you that."

"Nah, I figured it out on my own."

"You're far too smart for your own good, you know that?"

"It's not like it was hard," Shikadai answered. "Dad's advisor to the Hokage, so he's the one making recommendations, and you were his student, so he knows how good you are. Plus there's the fact that you're the youngest jonin in a generation. I think the word Iruka-sensei likes to use is _prodigy_."

Mirai nudged him. "They'd use that word for you too, if you actually applied yourself for once."

"Maybe. But they wouldn't really mean it – not the way they do with you."

As they continued to walk, Mirai took this all in appreciatively, as Shikadai knew she would: she was terribly susceptible to flattery. This was probably not a good trait in an Anbu operative, so Shikadai suspected she was only like this around him.

Now that he had softened her up slightly, he focused on kicking the rock in front of them. Casually, he asked, "So why were you in the classroom today? Don't tell me you're scouting for new recruits before we even graduate."

"Maybe," answered Mirai with a sly grin, echoing Shikadai from a moment earlier. "If you had to pick a team, who would you choose?"

Shikadai actually fell silent at this, temporarily forgetting his interrogation. "Sarada Haruno," he said first, with hardly any hesitation. Then he pictured the classroom in his mind, considering this challenge carefully. Something seemed to strike him, and he added, "Himawari Uzumaki."

"Himawari?" echoed Mirai, amused. "Not Boruto?"

"Boruto doesn't have the attitude for Anbu," Shikadai said matter-of-factly. "Hima does."

Thoughtfully, Mirai tapped her chin. "And she has the Byakugan," she murmured, almost as if to herself. "You can't get much better than a Hyuga with Uzumaki power behind her…" Then she snapped back to the present, and grinned at Shikadai. "I want a full team, Shika," she teased. "Let me guess, your third recommendation is – you?"

Shikadai glanced up at Mirai, then looked down at the rock in front of him.

"Nah," he said. "I can't compete with those girls anyway. "Inojin, maybe."

Somewhat satisfied with this selection, Mirai gave a little nod. "Inojin's okay," she said. "He'd be better in Intelligence, like his mother, but it was a tough question. Besides they rarely select three Anbu at a time, and especially not out of the Academy."

"Hey, you were the one who asked me."

"I did," agreed Mirai, as they reached the gate of Shikadai's home. "And you did a good job. I'll tell your dad to keep an eye on Hima – you're right, she could really go places."

They entered the home together. Shikadai noticed both his parents' shoes by the door, which meant they were both home. Which was odd.

"Mom, Dad," he called. "Mirai's here!" He did not find his parents at first, glancing into the kitchen, and passing by his father's office. "Hey," he called again, into the house. "What's with the extended family outside? Is there some kind of clan meeting I didn't know about?"

Behind Shikadai, Mirai couldn't help but smile; members of the Nara clan were hidden outside the house, but of course the boy had seen right through that. He wasn't his parents' son for nothing.

In the big living room, which they rarely used unless entertaining guests, Shikadai drew to an abrupt halt when he slid the door open and found his parents sitting at a low table with a man Shikadai hadn't seen in more than a year.

"Uncle Kankuro!"

Kankuro, devoid of his typical suit and facepaint, grinned at his nephew. "Hey, kiddo. Long time no see, huh?"

Gaping in between his parents and his uncle, Shikadai asked, "What are you doing here? Nobody told me you were coming!"

"What?" asked Kankuro, with a fake little pout. "A guy can't visit his favorite sister and favorite nephew just because?"

"She's your only sister," Shikadai pointed out, beginning to grow suspicious. "And I'm your only nephew…"

Before Kankuro could reply to this, Shikamaru leaned towards his son, a small, adoring smile on his face. "How was school?" he asked.

"Strange," answered Shikadai, still watching Kankuro, certain that something was wrong. "Mirai was there."

From behind Shikadai, Mirai waved. "Hi," she said.

"And so were a bunch of other jonin," added Shikadai. "Is it really so peaceful that the Village can spare so many trained shinobi to guard the Academy?"

"Well," said Kankuro, interjecting before Shikamaru could answer, "depends on which village we're talking about."

Temari shot her brother a death glare, then said to her son, "Kankuro's here to extend an invitation, Shikadai. Gaara wants to know if you would come to see him in Sunagakure."

Now very, _very_ certain that something was wrong, Shikadai looked cautiously in between his mother, his father, and Kankuro, then even spared one glance for Mirai. "Why?" he asked.

"To spend time with your uncles," answered Shikamaru, unimpressed.

"And because you've never been," added Kankuro. "Now that you're old enough – you're going to be a genin soon – I think it's about time you come see where your mom was born. It's not much," he added, self-deprecatingly, but affectionately, "but it's home."

Shikadai still said nothing. This did not seem right, for more reasons than he could list. "Dad," he said. "Why aren't you at work?"

Shikamaru smiled blandly, as if he had been anticipating the question. "I'm taking some time off," he said simply.

"To go to Suna?"

"If you want to go."

"So I get a choice."

"Of course you get a choice," added Temari, and Kankuro wondered if her son could recognize the loving tone of her voice, or if that was the only tone the boy had ever known. "If you didn't want to go, do you really think we could make you?"

 _Yes_ , thought Shikadai, because he was smart and he knew his parents were supremely powerful. And then he met his father's tender, slightly apologetic gaze, and he realized: _No_. They couldn't. Of course they couldn't fight him. Of course they would let him decide. They spoiled him, with too much trust and freedom than an Academy student should maybe be able to have.

And Kankuro was right. He never _had_ been to Suna.

"I'll go," he said, finally. "But first you have to tell me why. Is Uncle Gaara sick, or something?"

Kankuro let out a laugh and Temari seemed to be sharing a personal joke with him, because there was a sly smile on her face as she replied. "No, no. He'd just like to see you. That's all, Shikadai."

That wasn't all, and he knew it. "Okay," he said, despite this. "When are we leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow," said Kankuro.

"So does that mean I don't have to turn in my homework?"

"No," answered Shikamaru. "You can leave it with Chocho or Inojin, they'll turn it in for you."

Let down by the thought of having to complete schoolwork, Shikadai glowered at his parents. "Fine," he said. "Then I'm going to go play one game, and then I'll do my homework."

He turned and fled the room before Temari could raise her voice to call, "No, Shikadai, homework first! No games!"

Without pausing outside the door, Shikadai retreated to the kitchen, to find some food for himself before he started homework, as usual. Then he paused; instead of following him, Mirai had stayed with his parents and his uncle. Another unusual thing. Whether or not something was _wrong_ , per se, something had certainly _happened_ , and Shikadai intended on finding out what.

Knowing that any one of the experienced shinobi in the other room would hear him if he crept back to listen at the door, he only went to the entrance to the kitchen, from which he could see the door to the other room, although he couldn't understand the low voices conversing within. He crouched down low, signing a jutsu with his hands. His father had taught him this particular experimental technique a few weeks ago, and Shikadai hadn't been able to get it down, so he had given up after that training session, pretending he didn't care.

Later that night, though, he practiced it over and over again in his room, certain he could master it if he tried. This is where Shikadai differed from his father, he thought, and where his relation to his mother was most apparent: despite his apparently lazy nature, he hated losing. He just equally hated anyone knowing how badly he wanted to win.

In any case, he had eventually mastered the jutsu, and now this was his first time able to use it for a real purpose. He felt his chakra surge as he activated the technique, and then watched as his shadow crept along the hall, pressing tightly against the sides of the door.

Whispered along the length of his shadow, he heard the voices from the room in his ear as clear as day.

"-upgraded to a B-rank," Mirai was saying. "Is that right?"

"Yeah." This was Shikadai's father's voice, sounding tired. "You can stay with your mom if you like, but I'd prefer you on our team."

"Of course," answered Mirai, obviously restraining her excitement and pride at being asked on a mission by her former sensei. "Will you be acting captain?"

Kankuro's voice, then. "Shikadai," he said.

All four of them laughed. "I'll take captain," said Shikadai's mother. "I'm the one with one foot in each village. It's my responsibility."

"It's not your fault," said Kankuro.

"I didn't say it was," answered Temari coolly. "Anyway, I know that journey better than anyone else, so I have the tactical expertise."

There was a brief pause, then Mirai asked, with the slightest tinge of hesitation in her voice: "Don't you think it's a little needlessly risky?"

It was Temari who replied. "The closer we are to Gaara, the safer he'll be."

Despite her obvious finality, Shikamaru muttered, "Because one man is worth more than an entire village, I guess."

"Don't sulk, Shikamaru," said Temari shortly. "This isn't about you."

"No. Apparently, it's about the Kazekage."

"Gaara doesn't take kindly to assassination attempts." This was Uncle Kankuro's voice. "I don't care what your Hokage says – I'd rather have this dealt with than sit around waiting for it to hit the fan. Metaphorically speaking," he added, with what Shikadai imagined was a nod towards Temari.

"Shikadai should get as much training in as he can before we go," said Temari. "Would you mind helping, Mirai?"

"I'd be happy to."

"Can you go make sure he's doing his work?" asked Shikamaru, with a sigh. "Knowing that kid, he's off playing his game already."

"Right, Shikamaru-sensei."

By the time the door slid open and Mirai headed to the kitchen, Shikamaru had his handheld videogame already out, engrossed in the new level.

Shikadai spent the evening training with Mirai, which devolved at some point into him laying at the base of a tree playing his game as she narrated demonstrations. Although he wasn't doing the physical work of practicing her movements, Mirai knew that Shikadai had the mind of his father, and he could understand a technique without ever trying it, as long as someone explained it to him thoroughly.

That night after Mirai left, Shikadai lay awake in his bed, going over and over what his parents had said. _Upgraded to B-rank. The closer we are to Gaara, the safer he'll be. Shikadai should get as much training in as he can before we go_.

This was a mission, he realized. A mission of protection, the way he heard it, for his uncle the Kazekage – maybe the political situation in Suna was heating up, and Gaara needed his family's protection. And Shikadai was clan to the Kazekage, and so they were taking him along as well, to help protect. A swell of pride bloomed in his chest, and he fell asleep that night in awe.

Here was another place Shikadai was more like his mother: he had inherited her arrogance and her competitive nature, which he tried desperately to hide, to appear as cool and unconcerned as his father did. Even still, he could not bury it completely, and the next day during recess at the Academy, once Mirai was out of earshot, Shikamaru leaned against the big tree from which a swing hung, and he asked, casually, "Have you heard about Suna?"

"Suna?" echoed Chocho. "What about it?"

"The Kazekage's in trouble," said Shikadai.

"The Kazekage?" asked Boruto, whose father had no doubt told him about Gaara. "Isn't that your uncle?"

"Yeah. I guess that's why they're taking me along to defend him."

At this, Sarada, who sat reading a book on the swing beneath the tree, raised an eyebrow. She did not look up from her book. "What! Really?" asked Chocho. "Are you serious? You're going on a mission already? But we aren't even genin yet!"

Shikadai shrugged. "It's a drag, but what do we have if we don't have duty to our families?"  
"Duty to the Village," said Sarada.

They all glanced around at her. She returned Shikadai's gaze stoically. "It's not so simple anymore," Shikadai countered calmly. "Chocho and I are both half from other villages, our mothers' villages. Loyalties to the place where you're born aren't so clear anymore, but loyalty to your family? That's forever."

"But you're a Konoha-nin deep down, Shikadai," said Boruto, grinning and nudging his friend. "My dad says your dad has the strongest Will of Fire he knows."

"Maybe," answered Shikadai. "But why do you think shinobi of other villages don't have the same Will of Fire for their homes?"

This question seemed to stump Boruto. While he thought about it, Sarada closed her book and laid it in her lap. "So you say your parents are taking you on a mission," she said.

"Yeah," answered Shikadai, with just the slightest hint of his mother's aggression. "B-rank. It makes sense." He shrugged again. "My uncle's a pretty important guy."

"Who's captain?"

"My mom."

Sarada's eyes narrowed. "Then you're a squad member short."

"No," replied Shikadai. "My other uncle Kankuro came from Suna to bring us back, and Mirai is coming too."

"Mirai-sensei is going?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're a squad member _over_ ," Sarada pointed out, adjusting her glasses on her face. "Besides, that's a ridiculous idea anyway. We're not even genin yet, and B-ranked missions are for experienced chunin at the very least. You'd be dead weight on a mission that advanced. Are you even sure you're going at all?"

"I am going," Shikadai shot back. But a wave of something crashed in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous. He was supposed to be a genius, as smart as his father – but what Sarada said was true, and he suddenly felt very stupid for refusing to believe it earlier.

Chocho offered, "Maybe you're graduating early, and this is your special exam!"

Sarada didn't protest this, but her dark eyes were nonetheless focused on Shikadai.

He returned her look defiantly for a moment, then sunk back against the trunk of the tree behind him. "I hope not," he sighed. "That'd be such a drag."

After school – Mirai walked him home once more, and she talked the whole way back, which Shikadai liked. This way, he didn't have to say anything. At home, he ignored his homework in favor of his videogames, which caused Temari to stride straight up to him and take the controller out of his hands, instructing him that he would not be able to play again until his schoolwork and training was over. But he told Mirai he didn't want to train with her, and although Kankuro dragged him out for some sparring, nothing seemed to rouse Shikadai out of his glumness. In the end, he sat in his room silently as his father helped him pack belongings for the journey. When he was finished, Shikamaru held up the bag and asked, "Think you'll be able to carry this?"

Shikadai nodded, but said nothing. There was a silence between them, then Shikamaru went to his son and gently ruffled his son's hair with one hand. "You'll be alright," Shikadai's father assured him. "Hey, you might even have some fun. All your friends at the Academy'll be jealous."

And then Shikamaru left him alone. For a while longer, Shikadai sulked in his room. Outside, the sun fell, and the moon rose. Shikadai could not sleep. Sarada's words settled in his brain, giving new meaning to the conversation he had overheard. _The closer we are to Gaara, the safer he'll be_. Shikadai had just assumed Temari meant her brother when she said _he_. And yet, now that he was thinking clearly, it seemed obvious she meant someone else.

Unable to sleep, Shikadai left his room. He was not hungry, nor did he want to play any more games. He felt oddly empty.

So he found himself drawn to the roof, bathed in moonlight from the silvery orb above him. Stars twinkled in the inky black sky, reflected along with the moon in the little koi pond on the grounds. Beyond the walls of the Nara head residence, he saw a thin trail of smoke wisping up towards the sky. Mirai, he decided. Recently she had taken up smoking, a bad habit she had inherited from both her teacher and her father. Shikamaru had quit smoking when Shikadai was a baby, and Mirai was sternly forbidden from smoking around Shikadai or the Nara household. But Shikadai could understand it, he thought. Mirai didn't have a whole lot of ways to get to know her father. His habits, even his vices, might bring her closer to him.

After a few moments, he heard someone alight on the roof. He looked around.

His mother stood behind him, smiling slyly at him. "Thinking of running away?" she asked.

"No," answered Shikadai. "That'd be way too much trouble."

Crossing the distance between them, Temari went to sit down beside her son. "Yeah," she agreed. "It would be."

There was a long silence.

Temari looked out into the darkness, then followed Shikadai's gaze up into the stars. "I thought about running away a lot when I was a kid," she said to him. He didn't reply. His mother rarely spoke of her childhood, and although Uncle Kankuro had at times dropped hints, she usually crushed them immediately, indicating no desire to tell her son about the life she lived before him. "I never did," she added reasonably. "But I thought about it."

"Why?" asked Shikadai.

His mother shrugged. "I didn't like it in Suna. I didn't like my father. I didn't like my youngest brother, and I didn't like having to look after my other brother on my own."

"Is that why you came to Konoha?"

"No," she answered mildly. "I came to live in Konoha much later, for different reasons."

"Because of Dad?"

At this, she cocked her head slightly, as if in consideration. "Not entirely," she said. "Not for the reasons you'd expect a woman to follow her husband. Back then, our alliance with Konoha was still fresh. Raising you here was a diplomatic decision." She glanced at her son. He wondered about how she said _our alliance with Konoha_. _Our_. In her eyes, Shikadai supposed, he was still from Suna at heart, just like her. "I don't regret it," she added. "But being away from my home so long, I've started to realize how little I understand as a child. I miss it. I miss both my brothers. Sometimes I even miss my father."

There was a short silence. Temari leaned back on her hands to look up at the stars, in apparent contentment.

"Mom?" Shikadai asked.

"Hm?"

"Why did Uncle Gaara become Kazekage, and not you?" he asked. "You're the oldest. Doesn't that make you first in line?"

For a moment, Temari made no indication she had heard this at all. And then she gave a half-shrug. "Certain people are suited for certain things, Shikadai," she told him. "I never had the temperament for Kazekage. Never wanted it, anyway."

"And Uncle Gaara did?"

"At some point, yes," Temari answered. "But it was more than that, too. He needed it. And the Village needed him."

Shikadai thought about this for some time, following his mother's gaze up to the inky black sky. "Uncle Gaara is a good leader, isn't he?"

A slight smile touched Temari's lips. "He is," she said, gently, in a tone usually reserved for her most intimate moments with her son. "I'm proud of him."

"Is he better than the Seventh?"

"Oh, absolutely," she said, brushing away the question. "The Kazekage is different from the Hokage, but it's no contest."

Wryly, Shikadai grinned up at his mother. "You're just saying that because he's your brother," he said, with a hint of accusation in his voice.

"Sure," she answered, glancing down to meet her son's gaze. "But why do you think that means it isn't true?"

They spent a long while up on the roof. Eventually Shikadai rested his head in his mother's lap, and Temari pointed out constellations to him, describing their meanings. "In Suna, we call that the Scorpion," she told him, pointing at a series of random pinpricks of brightness in the sky. "Here in Konoha they call it the Snake. When the tip of the tail is brightest, some superstitious people here say it's a bad time."

Sleepily, Shikadai asked, "What about in Suna?"

Temari gave a quiet laugh. "It was always a bad time in Suna."

Shikadai did not recall falling asleep, but his mother must have brought him down when he did, because he awoke early the next morning in his bed, his room still dark in the half-gray of early dawn. The door to his room slid open and his uncle, already wearing his suit and makeup, said, "Shikadai, come on – we're almost ready to go."

They headed out of the Village as the sun rose behind them. At the gates, the Seventh Hokage met them, exchanging a few low words with Temari and Shikamaru as Mirai obviously tried to distract Shikadai. Shikadai's father looked extremely unhappy, and was making no effort to hide it; Shikadai saw him almost raise his voice once, but Temari placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping him tightly, bringing him down. This was unusual. Usually with his parents, it was the other way around.

All the same, Shikamaru seemed untroubled once more as they looked around, gesturing for Shikadai and Mirai to join them.

"Hey, Shikadai," said Naruto, leaning down on his knees to grin at the boy. "Bolt's really jealous you're getting a few days off from the Academy. You excited?"

Shikadai eyed him. "I guess," he said.

"Ah," Naruto laughed, straightening up. "You know, Shikamaru," he said to the other man, "sometimes it's like looking at a younger version of you, exactly."

Affectionately, Temari held her son close to her side. "Eerie, isn't it?"

With another laugh, Naruto gave Temari a pointed look, then a nod. "Say hi to Gaara for me. And stay safe."

"We will," answered Temari, turning serious and sober immediately. "Try not to burn down the Village without us, will you?"

"No promises," replied Naruto, grinning at them. "Good luck."

They departed Konoha with Naruto still standing at the gates. Before the Village was obscured by the dense forest, Shikadai cast one last look behind him. The Seventh Hokage waited gravely just beyond the gates, and something suddenly dropped into Shikadai's stomach as the reality set in. He was in danger; that much he was sure, although why and how and from what he did not yet know. And yet here he was, leaving the safe confines of his village to venture into the unknown – even Suna was foreign to him, and in that which is unfamiliar lurks danger at every corner.

For a moment this frightened him, and then he steeled himself, turning around to concentrate ahead of him, at his uncle Kankuro's back. _I'm a Nara_ , he thought. _I'm not afraid of anything hiding in the shadows._

"Mama," called Shikadai.

Before her brother, Temari slowed enough to catch her son's eye.

"I just remembered," he said. "It's Chocho's birthday next week. Am I going to be back in time to go to her party?"

His mother did not immediately reply. Then: "No."

A frown appeared on Shikadai's face. "What? How long are we staying? It only takes two days to get to Suna!"

"We're going a different route," said Temari simply. "If you don't hurry up, it might take twice that."

"But-!"

Temari had already leapt forward, leading the squad once more.

From behind him, Shikadai's father appeared at his side.

Without looking at his son, Shikamaru said, "Chocho's birthday isn't for three months."

Shikadai didn't say anything.

"If you have a question, Shikadai," said Shikamaru patiently, "then you can ask it. You don't have to pretend it's something else."

After a brief pause, which Shikadai did not break, Shikamaru fell back in formation behind his son.

All of this seemed suspicious to Shikadai. Maybe his father was right, and he should just ask what was going on; but there was so much secrecy, so much obvious tension, that Shikadai was convinced he would not be given a real answer – he would either be lied to, or else given a flimsy not-technically-untrue explanation, something to reassure children and keep them from asking too many questions. Secrecy was the nature of shinobi, and his parents were two of the finest shinobi there ever were. Even if they didn't intend it, their way of being demanded secrets, and half-truths, and hollow answers to even their own child's curious inquiries.

By midday, they were slowing down. Shikamaru called for a rest, and he produced some food and water for Shikadai, who quickly realized that the rest of them did not require a break, and they had stopped for his benefit. Defiantly, he insisted they continue.

But as the sun sank beneath the tree line and turned the clouds a deep, syrupy orange, Shikadai had fallen slightly behind his father, who stayed close to him while Mirai, behind them both, remained further back. Despite his bravado, Shikadai's legs hurt, and he had been out of breath for hours now, and he wanted to stop going and lay down in his warm bed and go to sleep.

Much like his mother, though, he was too stubborn to admit when he had had enough. It was Shikamaru who stopped, holding out a hand before his son's chest. "Temari," he called, and she and Kankuro too paused, then turned around to join them. "Let's get some rest," he said reasonably. "We can head out again early tomorrow morning."

Temari and her brother took first watch; Mirai held a murmured conversation with Temari, then grinned at Shikadai and told him to get some sleep before bounding off into the forest. If Shikadai found this suspicious, he said nothing. The easiest way to make people think you knew more than you did, he'd learned, was to pretend you didn't have to ask questions at all.

While the three other members of the squad were off scouting or otherwise, Shikamaru set up camp with his son. They built a fire, and Shikamaru took out some food for a meal, which they roasted. Except for the crackling of the flames and the organic sounds of the growing night around them, there was silence.

Shikamaru spared a sidelong glance towards his son. Shikadai's gaze was fixed above the fire before them, into the trees where his mother and uncle hid somewhere, on the alert for potential threats.

Interrupting his son's reverie, Shikamaru waved a roasted weenie on a stick before Shikadai's face. "Eat," he said.

Shikadai waved his father away. "I'm not hungry."

"Mm? You need to keep up your strength if we're going to reach Suna as fast as Mom intends."

"We're already taking an extra day," replied Shikadai simply, without glancing around at his father. He rested his elbows on his knees, and laid his chin in his hands. His eyes were still focused on the leafy canopy above them. "Why should I worry about not going fast enough when you all are obviously slowing down for me?"

"You're just a kid, Shikadai," answered Shikamaru plainly, without hesitation. "The four of us are trained adult shinobi. It's a simple fact that we have to slow down our normal pace for someone your age. We'd do it for anyone, not just you."

There was a long silence. Shikadai said nothing. There was something about the set of his mouth and in his burning refusal to look at his father which so reminded Shikamaru of Temari. People often commented how much Shikadai looked like Shikamaru, but that was a hasty judgement, Shikamaru always thought. Those who knew his son more intimately would quickly see how much the boy resembled his mother.

Then Shikadai's beautiful blue-green eyes slid across to his father. Firelight reflected in those eyes, reminding Shikamaru of a million missions he'd undergone with his wife.

Shikadai said, "This is a mission, isn't it."

It didn't occur to Shikamaru to lie to his son. "Yes," he said.

"And I'm not _on_ the mission with you and Mom," continued Shikadai. "I _am_ the mission."

A small, wry smile tugged at Shikamaru's lips. "Well, son," he sighed, glancing back at the fire. "Being a parent is a full-time responsibility, you know. Raising you has been our number-one priority mission since you were born."

"But this is more than normal," pressed Shikadai. "I don't understand. Why do I need to go to Suna? Mirai said this was a B-ranked mission. Why is it so important to deliver me to Suna, like some kind of valuable weapon?"

"Hey," said Shikamaru suddenly, harshly. He watched his son, his hand tight around the roasting stick in his hand. "That isn't it," he said, his voice low. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?" demanded Shikadai. He scrambled to his feet defiantly, the flickering fire casting long shadows which twisted and squirmed frantically, as sometimes happened when a Nara could not control a burst of chakra-filled emotion. "Why do we have to leave Konoha? Why are all of you acting like there's some big secret you can't tell me about? What's in Suna that's so important, anyway!"

There was a blast of wind so strong it smothered the fire before Shikadai and his father; the small clearing was plunged into darkness, and Shikadai instinctively dropped into a crouch and attempted a Shadow Possession Jutsu.

A few yards away, moonlight reflected on blonde hair and eyes as bright as his, and his mother skipped backwards slightly, out of range of his underdeveloped jutsu. Once Shikadai realized who it was, he immediately let up. "Mom!"

Shikamaru let out a sigh, and crouched down to stoke the fire once more.

In the dark of the night, Temari's face looked stony. "What's in Suna?" she echoed, watching her son with that rare look in her eye that always made him feel slightly frightened. "Your family is there, Shikadai."

"My family is in Konoha, too," he rebutted, ignoring the fear that look ignited. Between them, Shikamaru managed to get the fire going once more, throwing Temari's expression into deep relief. "I'll be head of the Nara clan someday, and then I can't just run away to some other village whenever my uncle wants to see me!"

"Your uncle is Kazekage," said Temari treacherously, her tone indicating to Shikadai that he was on thin ice. "If the Seventh wanted to see you, wouldn't you consider a top priority?"

"Uncle Gaara isn't _my_ Kage," Shikadai protested.

Anger flashed in Temari's eyes, and she slapped her fan closed, averting her gaze from her son. Shikadai heard her mutter, "Ungrateful…"

"Temari," said Shikamaru.

Shikadai glanced between his father and his mother. Temari did nothing for a moment, then shook her head. "Mirai took my place," she said, moving to one of the bed rolls Shikamaru had unpacked. "I'm going to get some sleep. Shikadai," she said, without looking back at her son, "you should rest as well."

Out of spite, Shikadai did not answer. Temari said no more, but set aside her weapons and lay down. Though her eyes were closed, Shikadai had never known his mother to sleep quickly or soundly, so he suspected she was still awake.

A few moments later, Shikamaru glanced at Shikadai. "What do you say?" he asked. "You tired?"

"No," replied Shikadai defiantly. Even though he _was_ a little bit sleepy.

Shikamaru considered his son for a moment, then turned to his pack. "All right," he said. "If you don't want to sleep just yet – what do you say about a game?"

Turning around to face his Shikamaru, Shikadai saw his father pull a wooden box with a checkered pattern on the top, which he opened to reveal a set of pieces within. Shikadai groaned. "Shogi?"

Shikadai hated playing shogi; not because it was difficult, but because he had never once won against his father, and his ego chafed against the indignity. Still, he almost felt addicted to it – he could never resist an offer from his father to play, because each game presented an opportunity of victory against his father. Such an opportunity had not yet materialized in the few years it had been since Shikadai had learned how to play, but he was determined to see it soon.

A little reluctantly, Shikadai wished his father would replace Mirai on watch so that he could play against her. Mirai had grown up playing shogi with Shikamaru, and now played with Shikadai whenever he liked. She had never won against either of them, but she always took it with an easy laugh whilst marveling at his skill and intellect; Shikadai liked the praise she showered on him, and he secretly liked the feeling of beating her. If she was such an excellent shinobi, surely it meant something that his powers of strategizing were superior to hers.

But then he heard his mother's voice in her head, in response to every time he had complained to her about being best by his father. " _It's just a game, Shikadai_."

He wished he didn't care. He wished he could be as carefree as his father. But sometimes it felt like he had more in common with his family of the Sand than the rest of the Nara clan. And, really, maybe that was why he was so sensitive about this mission. He belonged in Konoha; he _wanted_ to belong in Konoha. His connection to Suna alienated him, even from members of his own clan.

But shogi, no matter how much his losses bothered him, belonged firmly in his father's territory. He had never known his mother to play the game, and not in the embarrassed _I-don't-want-to-lose_ sort of way people sometimes had with Shikamaru. Temari had just never really had any interest in the game.

By now, the pieces were set up carefully on the board. Shikamaru gestured for Shikadai to toss the pawns to determine who would make the first move. When the pawns landed in Shikadai's favor, he grimaced. He preferred playing second, allowing him the chance to first analyze his opponent's strategy.

"Dad," said Shikadai, considering his first move.

"Shh," replied Shikamaru. Without taking his eyes off the board, he nodded towards the bed roll where Temari lay curled up.

With a nod, Shikadai lowered his voice. He made the opening move. "Has Mom ever played shogi against you?"

"Once," answered Shikamaru. He caught his son's eye, and grinned. "But it was in an arena, not on a board."

He made a move. Shikadai began, "What does that-?"

"Shh," said Shikamaru again, placing one finger against his lips and making his move with his other hand.

Lowering his voice once more, Shikadai leaned forward and asked, "Who did you play with before you taught me?"

"Mirai," answered Shikamaru. "Her father, before her."

"But Mirai isn't any good."

Shikamaru let out a low laugh. "No, she's not. And neither was her father, for that matter. Your grandpa was good, though," he added. "Lost to him every time."

Shikadai's heart sank. "Every time?"

Glancing up, Shikamaru met his son's eye, reading him like an open book. "Don't look so worried," he said, waving his hand. "My father died young. I'm going to live so long you'll want to be rid of me – and by the time I'm a hundred, you should be good enough to beat me, if you're lucky. Make your move," he said.

Shikadai did so. "Why didn't Mom ever play against you?"

"Oh," sighed Shikamaru, immediately moving a piece of his own, "because she'd win, probably."

At Shikadai's look, Shikamaru recanted this slightly. "Maybe not," he said, with a shrug. "Your mother is a different kind of strategist than I am, Shikadai. You want to think seven steps ahead, concoct a plan to entrap an enemy with minimal losses – sure. That's what I'm good for. But when you're in the middle of a war," he continued, leaning over the shogi board between them, "when you need decisions made quickly, when you are strategically outmatched and sometimes you have no choice but to fight with brutal attrition more than complex tactics – when you're in the field, and you need to look a fellow shinobi in the face before sending them out to die…" he trailed off, then shook his head. "That's when you call your mother," he said grimly.

Shikadai listened to this. Then he dropped his gaze to the shogi board. He made his move.

"Your mother has no patience for games," Shikamaru continued, this time without looking up at his son. "She didn't have the good fortune to be permitted to play during her childhood. If shogi is, for you and me, a no-stakes method of practicing our strategic skills, then for her it's meaningless. She didn't need games to practice that as a child."

Shikamaru made another move. "Why?" asked Shikadai.

The father shook his head, as Shikadai hovered his hand above his own piece, contemplating his next move. "I'm not your mother's keeper. If you have a question for her, ask her about it, not me."

In the ensuing silence, both Shikadai and his father made several moves. Both collected several captured pieces. Shikadai thought he was actually doing fairly well.

"Dad," he began. "Can I ask _you_ a question?"

"Shoot."

He hesitated.

Then, finally, he asked "Why are we going to Suna? I thought Uncle Gaara liked coming to visit us. He's friends with the Seventh, isn't he?"

Shikamaru considered this question very carefully. Then, laying another piece down on the board, he said, "…Yes, he is. And I think Gaara does enjoy visiting us. It can be a relief for him to get away from the village in which he has so much history, no matter how much he loves the Sand."

Shikadai skipped a piece across the board, capturing one of his father's pawns.

"But," continued Shikamaru, "I thought you'd realized by now that this mission isn't about Gaara."

Shikadai, pawn in hand, stopped. He looked up to meet his father's gaze. "What?" he asked. "What does that mean?"

With one deft move, Shikamaru made captured the piece Shikadai had just moved. "A long time ago," he said, considering the board before them, "someone asked me to imagine the entire village as a game of shogi. In that scenario, he asked me to imagine who the king might represent."

Shikadai was unsure whether or not his father was asking him a question. "I don't know," he responded brusquely, frustrated at how easily his father had captured his piece. "The Hokage?"

"That was my answer too, at first. But I've been thinking about it since I married your mother, Shikadai," continued Shikamaru thoughtfully. "Since you were born. I never would've thought that guess would one day be almost as relevant to me as my sensei's answer."

Shikadai frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Shikamaru let out a long, low sigh.

"You are my son," he said. "You are my light, Shikadai. To me, you are king." He met his son's gaze, his look weighty and tired. "But you are also kin to the Kazekage. So my duty to protect you is twofold. I have a duty to the future of two villages – and in a way, my duty to my wife's village is stronger than that to my own."

"Why?" Shikadai shot at his father. "Just because Mom's brother is Kazekage?"

Gently, Shikamaru said, "Because that places you in a line of inheritance, Shikadai. If something were to happen to your Uncle Gaara tomorrow, he has no immediate heir. His title could fall to you."

Shikadai's heart thumped in his chest, then skipped a beat.

"We've stayed in Konoha so long because of the political nature of my marriage to Mom," Shikamaru continued. "She's served as the Suna ambassador for years. But we've also stayed because it's safer for you there. At least, it was," he added, "up until a few days ago."

"Hold on," said Shikadai, his pulse rising quickly – but with fear or anger, he wasn't quite sure. "If it's not safe for me to be in Suna, why are you taking me there?"

"I didn't say it _wasn't_ safe," replied Shikamaru patiently. "Just that Konoha was safer. Now it isn't. So it might be time to leave."

Shikadai only heard one word.

Hollowly, he echoed, "…Leave?"

Avoiding his son's gaze, Shikamaru nodded at the shogi board. "Make your move."

There was a short silence.

Then Shikadai slammed the back of his hand against the shogi board, sending it and all its pieces flying across the small clearing. Temari started awake by the sudden crashing sound, grabbing her fan and clambering to her feet.

Warily Shikamaru held up a hand to calm his wife, then leaned forward towards Shikadai, who was already on his feet, eyes blazing.

"Shikadai," began Shikamaru tiredly, but his son cut him off.

"You're taking me away from Konoha," he said, his voice an accusation. "Aren't you? You're taking me away from my home!"

"Shikadai," repeated Shikamaru, his voice slightly louder now. "We're just trying to keep you safe-"

"I was safe in the Leaf!" he retorted, voice rising steadily. "I would've been safe there forever if I wasn't part of this stupid family!"

Temari spoke then, firmly, with no apology in her tone.

"Well, too bad," she told her son shortly. "You _are_ part of this family, whether you like it or not. You may not like it, but we have your best interest in mind."

"You're taking my _home_ away from me!"

"Shikadai," said Temari, leaning against her giant fan impatiently. "What we're doing is keeping you safe. I don't care what that might entail – if it meant taking your father away from you, or me, or all of your family or your friends or your village, if it meant I had to do any and all of that to keep you safe and alive, then I would do it. In a second. Without hesitation. You don't understand this," she said, when Shikadai looked about to interrupt her, livid with rage. "You can't, because you're young, and you don't yet love anything in the world the way I love you."

Temari paused, eyeing her son carefully, as if measuring the rage with which he gazed at her.

"I hope one day you're blessed with this curse," she said. "In the meantime, all I can do is tell you the truth. I will do _anything_ to protect you."

There was a long silence, wherein Shikadai fumed.

Still sitting by the fire, Shikamaru spoke up. "Besides," he said, leaning back on his palms. "Your mother gave up her home for me. Time I repay the favor."

Towards his father, Shikadai shot, "But what about _me_?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "Suna is your home too."

Speechless with anger, Shikadai glared at both his parents, then kicked at the shogi board emphatically. He turned and leapt into the trees around them; Temari made as if to follow him, but Shikamaru got to his feet, immediately at her shoulder. "Let him go," he said. At her expression, he gave a little smile and said, "He's just like you – give him some time." She still did not look happy. "Don't worry. Mirai will keep an eye on him."

Up in the canopy, Shikadai found a seat along a sturdy tree branch, leaning against the trunk. He was angry – and he hated how angry he felt. He wished he could just shrug it off like his father always seemed able to do. But he thought of Chocho, and Inojin, and even Boruto and Sarada and the others – and he thought, desperately, that he did not want to leave them. More than that, it stung that the decision was already apparently made without him. He always knew his parents kept things from him, but he had never expected them to hide something like this.

After a few minutes, there was some rustling in the tree leaves above him. He glanced up, expecting to see one of his parents there, wanting to talk to him.

There was nothing.

He paused, then glanced around. For some reason, a chill went down his spine.

And then, abruptly, a figure erupted through the trees before him: Mirai bounded forward, landing on the tree branch on which Shikadai sat. It shook violently, and he shouted at her before regaining his balance. "Relax," she teased, bouncing up and down on the branch, causing it to shake once more. "It's not going to break. Even if it did, don't worry," she grinned at him, "I'd catch you."

When Shikadai only responded with a glum look, Mirai fell silent, then took a seat beside him.

"I heard you arguing with your parents," she said. Holding up her hands defensively, she added, "I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, you were just being – kind of loud."

Shikadai grumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," responded Mirai, with a shrug. "You don't have to talk. Just listen, okay?"

She paused, just long enough to see if Shikadai would protest this. He did not.

"Your mom and dad love you a lot," she began slowly, sitting beside the younger boy. "You're lucky, you know. A lot of people my age, we don't have both of our parents. They died in the war."

Mirai paused somberly, looking down at her hands.

"I was just a baby, then," she muttered. "But I can remember it a little. The destruction. The fear." She gave Shikadai a little smile. "You're lucky," she repeated. "You have two homes. Two families who love you. I love my mom, but – she's all I have."

There was a pause. Then Shikadai lifted his head to glance at her. "You have Konohamaru-sensei," he said.

Mirai laughed. "Yes, but then again," she began fairly, "there are sometimes when I'd rather not admit Cousin Konohamaru is related to me, to be honest."

Despite himself, a little smile tugged at Shikadai's lips. "That makes sense."

Once more, there was a short silence. Mirai leaned over and wrapped an arm around Shikadai. He tugged away from her, then turned towards the trunk of the tree, trying to hide his face.

"Hey," she said gently. "Shikadai. It's okay. I don't mind if you cry."

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing she would leave him alone.

Trying to get himself under control, Shikadai let out a shuddering breath. "A-A true shinobi should do whatever is best for his village," he breathed, wiping at his face. "Dad is right. Suna is my village too, and if they need me I – I shouldn't be – I should be _sad_ -"

Mirai let out a disparaging snort. "Shikadai, please. Being a shinobi doesn't mean you ignore your feelings, or push them aside. Those feelings are important. You should use them."

Finally drying his face, Shikadai glanced up at Mirai. "Use them?" he repeated. "How?"

"Well," began Mirai matter-of-factly, "think of it this way. You're only sad because of how much you love Konoha, right?"

He watched her. "Right."

"So use that," she told him simply. "That love for your Village – that's the most important thing. That's something they can't teach you." She grinned at him. "That's _it_ , Shikadai. That's what they call the Will of Fire. It isn't just a duty to one's village. It's love for it. Something you have plenty of."

Shikadai bit his lip. "But my parents are taking me away from Konoha," he said. "What use can I be to them if I'm so far away?"

Mirai pointed out, "Your mom was useful to Suna, even though she was in a different village. You take your love with you wherever you go. That's what's important. Besides," she added, "you love your mom, don't you? And your uncles, Kankuro and Lord Gaara?" Shikadai gave a shaky nod. "Then think about that. Think about how happy your Uncle Gaara is going to be to see you again. If you can't make yourself love the Sand just yet, that's okay – but there are _people_ there you love. That's what you need to focus on."

She squeezed him tightly.

"You'll be all right," she said.

When she said it, Shikadai thought, it sounded much more convincing than it did in his head.

By the time Shikadai returned to the clearing below, his uncle's watch had ended, and Kankuro slept beside the fire while Shikadai's father stood watch in the trees above them. His mother appeared to be fast asleep, although Shikadai doubted it. He knew his mother was a light sleeper.

He felt badly for the way he had shouted at his parents – for the way he had denied his relationship to his mother's family. Shikadai took his own bed roll and dragged it towards his mother, then laid down beside her. Part of him wanted to whisper to her that he was sorry, but his stubborn nature – a nature he had inherited from her – wouldn't allow it.

Instead, he closed his eyes, just close enough to his mother to feel the warmth of her body by his side. After a moment, Temari shifted; and then she draped an arm around her son, and pulled him close. Shikadai felt his whole body relax, releasing tension he didn't even realize he was holding. He sank into his mother's embrace, and drifted into sleep.

In the morning, it was his father who gently shook him awake. "Shikadai," he said. "Come on. It's time to head out."

Where it was visible between the trees above them, the sky was a clear yellow with the rising sun; the air smelled fresh and organic. Maybe from having exorcised the tears in his eyes and having been held by his mother, Shikadai felt much better. They resumed their journey, although this time Temari and Mirai switched places, so that Mirai led the five of them, and Shikadai's mother brought up the rear.

"Mirai," called Shikadai, from his place behind his uncle Kankuro. She and Kankuro both glanced back at him. "You know the way to Suna?"

"Sure," answered Mirai, shooting a grin his way. "I've been there a couple times."

"A couple times?" echoed Kankuro, watching the girl suspiciously. "Isn't it just once?"

Mirai gave him a playful look, sticking out her tongue. "Just once you know about."

Given that Mirai was Anbu, Shikadai didn't think this was unlikely. "What's it like there?" he asked.

"Ah, Shikadai," sighed Kankuro, almost as in rebuke. "Don't tell me my sister has never told you about the Sand."

"She has," answered Shikadai. "And so has Dad. But they both remember the Suna of a long time ago – I just wonder what it's like now."

"And why wouldn't you ask me, then?" demanded Kankuro. "I was just there a few days ago!"

"But it's your home," said Shikadai. Behind him, he was aware of both of his parents listening to him, but neither of them said anything. "What was it like, Mirai?"

Mirai hesitated at this. She glanced at Kankuro, then past Shikadai, at either Shikamaru or Temari. Then she let out a sigh and replied, "I don't know, Shikadai. It's in a desert – which we should be hitting soon, actually. Tonight or early tomorrow. It's smaller. And quieter. I think the people there are a little more serious than in Konoha."

Kankuro let out a little laugh. "I'm not going to argue with that one," he said.

"But I don't know," she repeated, with a shrug. "Wherever I've gone, I've found that people are pretty much the same everywhere. We're not as different as we think, we're just used to different things."

"What kind of different things?"

"A Kage a lot less fun than the Seventh, for one."

"Again," said Kankuro, "that's fair."

"Anyway, if you ask me, the Sand just isn't as lucky as the Leaf," Mirai added. "We have a number of really incredible shinobi, those who have done truly heroic things for us. I'm not saying Suna doesn't have those people," she said, with a nod towards Kankuro, "but I'm just saying that they have a lot fewer of them." She flashed a grin at Shikadai. "Which is why they want you, probably."

As they continued their trek, Shikadai couldn't shake off a vague sense of unease, troubled deep in his stomach.

When the sun began to sink along the horizon, Mirai paused, throwing a glance behind her. Shikadai followed her look to find his mother on the forest floor, kneeling down to test the soil between her fingers.

"We should camp here for the night," she called, up towards the rest of them. "We're almost at the edge of the desert, and I don't want to get caught out there in the dark."

As they joined her on the ground, Shikadai asked, "Wouldn't that be the best time to go through the desert? Because it's so hot?"

"Sure," answered Kankuro, nudging Shikadai. "Until you meet the giant scorpions that come out at nighttime."

This time, Temari and Shikamaru took first watch. Again, Mirai left camp briefly, to do whatever it was she had done the night before. Shikadai was left to set up camp with his uncle.

When they had the fire crackling before them and Shikadai was chowing down on some dense nutrient bars, he glanced at his uncle. Kankuro had his hood down, revealing the sandy brown of his hair. He looked like the perfect blend of his brother and his sister, although his eyes were darker. Of the three of them, Shikadai had heard his mother say before, Kankuro most resembled their father. That was one of the only times Shikadai had ever heard his mother mention his grandfather.

"Uncle Kankuro," said Shikadai.

The man glanced around at Shikadai. "Hm?" With a grin, he added, "You're not going to ask me about Suna, are you? I thought Mirai did a pretty good job earlier."

"No," said Shikadai; he felt slightly distracted, and almost as if he shouldn't ask. But something just hadn't sat right with him, and he had to know. "Dad said, if something happened to Uncle Gaara…I'd be next in line for the Kazekage." Shikadai frowned at the fire before him, confused. "But I'm not," he said, looking back up at Kankuro. "What about you? If it's all about what clan you're from, aren't you in line too? And you're older than Uncle Gaara, too. Why is the youngest brother Kazekage?"

This was a lot to take in at once. Kankuro watched Shikadai, his lips pursed in thought.

Then he sighed, and looked back at the fire. He sat crisscross, his elbows resting on his knees. "Your dad told you you're heir to Kazekage?"

Shikadai nodded. "That's what he said."

"Okay," said Kankuro. "Then I guess cat's out of the bag. It's an unwritten rule, sure, but in our village Kazekages are generally selected from a specific clan. Our clan." Kankuro poked at the fire with a stick. "In Konoha," he continued, "the Hokage is kind of in charge of everything. In Suna, the village is run by a number of powerful families, and the Kazekage is only really supposed to have the final say on matters of the village's security. At the end of the day he serves a lot more like any other member of the council."

"Why?" asked Shikadai, looking at his uncle. "Why our family?"

Kankuro smiled, and shrugged. "I don't know if you've noticed," he teased, "but your mother and my brother and me – we're all pretty powerful. Our family always has been. You will be too, one day. All of our power, combined with that of the Nara of Konoha? You'll be unstoppable," he said. He looked at Shikadai in the eyes, more sincere than Shikadai thought he had ever seen him. "I hope you know that."

Shikadai frowned at his uncle. "But you didn't answer my question," he said. "Why aren't _you_ Kazekage?"

Kankuro let out a somewhat forced laugh. "You kidding me?" he asked. "If power is what the village needs, then they'd be stupid to pick me. You've never seen your mom in the heat of real battle, but believe me – she's scary."

"Yeah," said Shikadai, nodding wisely. "You don't have to tell me that."

"As for Gaara, well," Kankuro laughed, "as far as I'm concerned, there's only one person alive who might be able to take Gaara in a real fight. And both Gaara and him treasure each other's friendship way too much for it to ever come to that."

That frown came back to Shikadai's face. "Who do you mean?"

"The Seventh, obviously," replied Kankuro, leaning forward. "It's a little painful to admit, but," he gave a tired smile, "I think Naruto Uzumaki was the first friend Gaara ever really had."

Shikadai watched his uncle. "What about you and Mom?"

Kankuro shook his head. Then he reached out and ruffled his hand through Shikadai's hair, mussing up his ponytail. "That's a story for another day, kiddo," he said. "Get some rest. If we want to try and reach the Village tomorrow, you're going to have to move pretty fast."

Despite himself, Shikadai was pretty tired, especially after the short sleep he'd had the previous night. He fell asleep before his parents had finished first watch.

During the night, he dreamt of a village made entirely of sand. He went from home to home, looking for someone he knew, something familiar to him, but he found nothing. In the distance, he could see the faces of previous Hokages carved into rock which melted away into burning sand, which buried half a village beneath it. Finally, he reached a place that looked like his home. But inside he found two sculptures made of shifting, glittering sand: his father and his mother, unreal, unmade, collapsed into piles of dust every time he tried to touch them.

He awoke in the filtered yellow-green light of early dawn with a start. There was a hand over his mouth; his immediate instinct was to scream, but then he saw his father's face close to his, one finger pressed against his lips. Shikamaru looked wary, his eyes searching around the campsite. The fire had been extinguished in the night. No one else lay in their bed rolls, but Shikadai's mother and uncle stood around him defensively, weapons raised.

When Shikamaru removed his hand from his son's mouth, Shikadai immediately scrambled to his feet and whispered, "What's happening? Where's Mirai?"

"Shhh," murmured Shikamaru. His eyes searched through the forest canopy above them. "Stay quiet, Shikadai."

Shikadai followed his father's instructions, but inside, he was shaking. Shikamaru's gaze was still focused above them, but Shikadai moved forward, clinging to his father's waist. Immediately Shikamaru put his hands protectively on his son's shoulders. "Daddy," whispered Shikadai. "I'm scared."

"Shhh…"

There was a beat of absolute, utter silence – silence which was beyond the ordinary, deeper, stronger, and more threatening than any quiet Shikadai had ever experienced in his life. Even the organic life surrounding them seemed to hush in anticipation.

And then it all came rushing in at once, like surface tension breaking beneath the glassy face of a great body of water: Temari shouted something like a battle cry and leapt forward, her fan swirling up a hurricane against which Shikamaru held his son tightly, keeping him close – then six ninja descended upon them, battered by the strength of Temari's wind jutsu, all wearing the insignia of the Sand, all with their faces covered to some varying degree. Some of their face coverings reminded Shikadai of his mother's old sensei, Baki, who had visited the Leaf only a few times to meet his student's son, and of whom Shikadai had always guessed was the closest thing he had to a grandfather. The cloths covering faces fluttered in the buffeting by Temari's fan, revealing expressions twisted with hatred, snarling and ugly.

A clattering puppet sailed over them, blocking a number of their attackers; but one landed violently against Temari's fan, locked into battle. Instantly Shikadai found himself scooped up in his father's arms and carried quickly away from the violence; four of the assassins extracted themselves from the fight with Kankuro and Temari to pursue the father and son. One yelled as he bore down at them, kunai in hand, and Shikadai squeezed his eyes shut, holding fistfuls of his father's shirt in hand.

The blow did not land. Shakily, Shikadai opened his eyes.

All four attackers had been torn away from Shikadai by Mirai and three other Leaf shinobi who moved so quickly he almost didn't recognize them at first; and then joy lit up his insides as his father set him down and he shouted, "Auntie Ino! Auntie Kurenai! Uncle Chouji!"

In a ruthless tag-team with his sister against two of the attackers, Kankuro still managed to be annoyed enough to call, "Hey! That's not fair, he's not even your real uncle!"

Mirai and Kurenai, mother and daughter, fought back to back. Shikadai had always known Mirai was an incredible kunoichi, but he had never seen her mother in the heat of battle: he found himself in awe, unable to look away from their graceful, brutal dance. Meanwhile Chouji dealt with his opponent with all the ferocity only the Akimichi clan could muster, and Ino, retreating back towards Shikadai and his father to avoid a blow, turned to grin at him.

"Don't worry, Shikadai," she assured him. "We're here to help you."

She glanced up to meet Shikamaru's gaze, nodded at him, then resumed her fight.

While all around them steel clashed and fights wore on, Shikamaru held on tightly to his son. "It's all right," he murmured, glancing around, slowly backing away from the fray. "You're gonna be just fine…"

At that moment, a sound behind them caused Shikamaru to whip around; in that instant, a kunai came rushing towards Shikadai, so fast his father barely had time to react at all-

But before the kunai hit its target, a barrier of sand reared up from the ground, causing the weapon to _thunk_ uselessly against the shield, and fall to the ground. Wildly, Shikamaru turned, searching for the source of the defense – and when he found him, he called, "Gaara!" and pushed Shikadai, hard, in the direction of a man with bright red hair and a symbol carved onto his forehead.

Without allowing Shikadai any time to react, Gaara took strong hold of Shikadai by the shoulder, drew him close, and held up his other hand towards the sky. Cascading down around them like a waterfall, a sphere of sand encircled the two of them and sealed beneath them, closing them in an impenetrable ball of sand.

All noises beyond the sand barrier were silenced. It was deathly quiet, apart from Shikadai's own panicked breathing. He could not hear his uncle Gaara breathing, but he could tell he was there from the touch at his shoulder and the warmth of a body beside him. It was pitch black inside the sand. Shikadai tried very hard not to let his uncle know he was shaking.

"Who-who are those people?" he managed to ask.

In the darkness, Gaara shifted slightly. "Assassins," he answered smoothly. "Not long ago they were after me. I banished them from the Village after I suppressed their coup. I never dreamed they'd go after you, Shikadai. Please believe me."

"After me?" squeaked Shikadai. "You mean – because I'm heir to the Kazekage?"

Gaara's grip tightened slightly on Shikadai's shoulder. "You know about that?"

"D-Dad told me."

"Please don't blame your parents from keeping this from you. I requested that they do so. For your sake."

"What? Why?"

In the darkness, Gaara was very still. "Children deserve a childhood free of the troubles of the adults who are responsible for them," he said. "I did not want to burden you."

" _Burden_ me?" Shikadai felt a rush of anger, even though he knew his uncle probably didn't deserve to be the target of his fury. "You don't want to _burden_ me, but it's okay to take me away from my home and all my friends? Is that how it is?"

Gaara released his hold on Shikadai's shoulder. "Your parents are taking you to the Sand for your own protection," he said. "But don't worry. It seems you won't have to stay forever."

This pricked at Shikadai. "Why not?" he demanded.

Even in the dark, Shikadai could sense Gaara gesturing around them. "The assassins from which we intended to protect you have played their hand," he answered simply. "They are the most dangerous political faction the Sand has seen in years. I designed this plan with my siblings to try and draw them into the open, where we might be able to extinguish them for good. That way you wouldn't feel a prisoner trapped in the name of your own safety, Shikadai."

This realization rammed into Shikadai like a ton of heavy sand dropped on his head. "This is your – plan?" he repeated, in shock. "You used me…as bait?"

"It was the best way to lure them out," replied Gaara, whose calm tone indicated he saw no problems with this. "A team followed you from Konoha, and I've been in hiding at the desert's border for some time now, waiting for the ambush." He paused, then added, "Your father does not like this plan. But then, it is not the type of plan on which a Konoha-nin would rely."

Shikadai thought of his father's uncharacteristic glumness before they left. While he understood his father's objections, he also was more impressed than not at the brilliant simplicity of the plan – and more than that, that it had apparently worked flawlessly.

With a hint of indignation, Shikadai asked, "Why didn't Mom and Dad just _tell_ me?"

Without hesitation, Gaara answered, "Because you are your mother's son, and if you knew someone was after you, you would demand to fight them yourself."

"Well – isn't that the way of a ninja?"

Gaara seemed to consider this for a moment. "Yes," he said, finally, slowly. "But, for a child such as yourself, it is also a bad way not to die."

There was a long silence. Shikadai imagined the battle raging on around them, and wondered how they would know when it was all finished.

As if he knew precisely what Shikadai was thinking, Gaara said quietly, "Shikadai."

Shikadai looked up, towards where he imagined his uncle's face to be. Gaara replaced one hand on the boy's shoulder, then placed two fingers against one of Shikadai's eyes.

Vision materialized in Shikadai's closed eye, strangely warped but clear enough. He saw his father synchronized perfectly with the other members of his old team. Mirai and Kurenai showed no signs of slowing down, but neither did the assassins they fought. Even Kankuro and Temari looked pressed, teeth grinding with effort as they rebuffed attack after attack.

"They need help," said Shikadai.

Gaara dropped his fingers from Shikadai's eye. The vision disappeared. "You're underestimating them."

"No," said Shikadai. "I'm saying I want to help them."

There was a silence.

"Please," he said.

For a long moment, Gaara said nothing. He made no move, and no sound.

Then: "I'm sorry it's so dark inside of here, Shikadai. I imagine it could be frightening."

Shikadai turned away from his uncle, reaching out to place his hands along the smooth, sturdy wall of the sand sphere surrounding them.

"I'm a Nara," he said shortly. "I'm not afraid of the dark."

In the darkness, Gaara could sense a surge of chakra from his nephew. It was true, he thought: the boy was a Nara. But, even though he could not see it yet, much more importantly: he was of clan Kazekage as well. Shikadai of the Sand. And no matter his age, his inexperience, his lack of rank – that meant something. That made him strong.

Gaara too pressed his hand against the sand wall before them. "Shikadai," he said. "I have an idea."

Outside, the battle with the assassins dragged on: they were expertly, incredibly trained, no doubt members of the Suna black ops squad. Even still, Temari, Kankuro, and the Leaf shinobi were making slow progress of it, wearing down the group. They were suffering losses themselves, of course; Shikamaru had a deep gash across his face which caused Ino to wonder, for one split second, if he realized the scar would heal in such a place as to heighten his resemblance to his late father. Temari too suffered a wound, blood blossoming from a deep graze in her side which she had received leaping in front of her brother to divert a spray of weapons coming his way. It was not unlike Temari to take blows meant for others, but Kankuro felt guilt in his stomach stir for her, as it always did, and fought harder for her.

So both of Shikadai's parents had shed blood for him. The wounds of their bodies, the crimson flashes of blood across the bright green of grassy earth beneath them, were physical, irrefutable proof of their love for him.

As Ino and Chouji teamed up to land a knockout blow against one of the assassins, Shikamaru stumbled back slightly against the full-fledged attack against another, a woman whose hair was brighter blonde than even Ino. Blood dripped down his face and into his eye, obscuring his vision, and he wildly and randomly attempted a defensive jutsu, but the assassin kept coming-

And then, abruptly, she stopped.

Shikamaru managed to steady himself on his feet, and frowned in confusion at the assassin before him, who froze in place; he looked around at Ino, to see if she had used her Mind Transfer Jutsu. But she was otherwise engaged, still attacking with Chouji, and then Shikamaru looked down at the ground, and something settled into place in his head, and he turned around.

In the shadow of a sand shield looming above him, with the Kazekage at his back, Shikadai knelt on the forest floor, his hands locked together in the sign of the Shadow Possession Jutsu.

With shock, Shikamaru looked at his son, then back at the assassin before her. She struggled against Shikadai's hold on her, but did not break through his jutsu.

Shikadai, thought Shikamaru numbly, wasn't even a genin. Untrained as he was, his Shadow Possession Jutsu shouldn't be powerful enough to hold her for more than half a minute.

But the assassin did not shake it off. Instead, as Shikadai narrowed his eyes in focus, sweat breaking out on his brow, the woman turned, jerkily, unnaturally, and threw herself towards her teammate, one of three now fighting against Kurenai and Mirai.

In a fit of surprise, the man she attacked was shocked into inaction, which allowed for a blow on a weak point which threw him to the ground, unconscious. The shadow-possessed assassin screamed in the agony of lost control, and produced a kunai from her belt, and held it out towards her teammate-

Just like that, without hesitation, Gaara closed the sand shield around them once more.

A protest at his lips, Shikadai twisted around to turn towards his uncle, whose face was invisible in the darkness once more.

"There is no need to kill once you have subdued," Gaara told him, with a short shake of his head. "Not for you, Shikadai."

He protested, "They would've killed _me_!"

"But they didn't," countered Gaara. "I levied my punishment on these traitors already. Now they have attacked a child of the Hidden Leaf. They will be taken to Konoha, where the Hokage will decide their fate."

Now that two assassins were down – the one Ino and Chouji had attacked, and the one who had been felled by his fellow teammate – the fight did not last much longer. Gaara held two fingers over his eye, watching it end. Once every assassin was unconscious and tied tightly up, Gaara collapsed the sand shield.

Temari was inspecting the deep cut on her husband's face; breathless, Shikadai ran up to them both. "Mom! Dad!"

He threw his arms around her waist, then she knelt down to return the embrace. "See?" she said softly, when they broke apart. There was a small grin on her face. "I told you I'd keep you safe."

"Temari," said Gaara, behind Shikadai. "You're wounded."

She shot the grin towards her brother, holding her side. "Yeah," she said, nodding towards their other brother. "Kankuro's fault."

Kankuro made a face. "I could've taken care of that guy just fine without your help, you know!"

"Let me escort you and Shikadai back to the Village," continued Gaara smoothly. "The others can return the assassins to Konoha."

Beside Shikadai, Shikamaru turned his head to look at Gaara.

"Please accompany us if you also require immediate medical attention, Shikamaru," Gaara added.

There was a beat of silence. Then Shikamaru said: "I'll catch up."

"Of course. Kankuro," said Gaara.

His brother met his gaze, and nodded.

Temari, Shikadai, and Gaara left the clearing where the battle had happened, quickly reaching the edge of the desert. They went slowly, but whether for Temari's benefit or Shikadai's, it was unclear.

Once enough distance had elapsed that they were far out of earshot, Shikamaru, Kankuro, and the others removed every trace that the assassins had ever existed. Even the blood soaked into the earth and away, as if the land beneath them too conspired in their favor.

They reached Suna later that day. Shikadai stayed with his mother as she received medical care, at first. Gaara lingered behind them, watching his sister with his characteristically blank expression. Not far behind them, Shikamaru and Kankuro showed up some time after them. Shikamaru joined his wife at the hospital, as medical-nin carefully cleaned his facial wound. "Ino tried to heal it before she took off," Shikamaru told his wife and brother-in-law darkly. "But, to be honest, that woman has never been as good at medical ninjutsu as she thinks she is…"

Had he come directly to professional medical-nin, they said, they would have been able to minimize the scarring. As it was, the ghost of that gash on his face might remain with him for the rest of his life. Affectionately, Temari ran her fingers down her husband's cheek. She did not think Shikamaru would be so disappointed at this permanent, unintentional reminder of his father.

Later that night, exhausted from battle and injury (or otherwise seeking a few private, intimate moments between the two of them) Temari and Shikamaru retired early. Kankuro resumed a typical patrol of the Village. Gaara was left to look after his nephew, in the Kazekage's quarters.

Kankuro had found a handheld videogame for Shikadai to play. He leaned against a low table, his chin resting parallel with his hands, arms stretched out before him. He seemed only half interested.

While Shikadai played, Gaara watered his collection of exotic cacti. A kettle whistled, and he took it to the table where Shikadai lounged, then poured two small cups of tea. When Gaara took a seat, Shikadai looked up from his game.

"Shikadai," said Gaara quietly. "I don't think this will surprise you so much, but your parents have not been entirely honest with you."

Shikadai frowned up at his uncle. Then he sat up, setting his game aside. "What do you mean?"

Gaara took a sip of tea. "They may have told you I wanted to see you," he said. "They may not have told you why."

Cautiously, Shikadai watched his uncle. "I thought this was all to get rid of those assassins."

"It was," agreed Gaara. "But that group of assassins rose in opposition to a possible political decision I proposed a little while ago." He paused. "A decision which involves you."

Shikadai's eyes flickered up to meet his uncle's clear, black-ringed gaze. "Involves me how?"

There was a long silence on Gaara's end. Shikadai said nothing, deciding it was better to allow this quiet to last, to give his uncle time to carefully select his words. Unlike Shikadai's mother, Gaara took time to consider all of his actions. Gaara was the only person for whom Temari's patience could stretch forever; Shikadai found that he was the same way.

"I have not told my sister about this yet," began Gaara, slowly. "But this Village is changing. A new generation is coming up. Braver, smarter, and stronger than my generation ever was."

Remembering Kankuro's words, Shikadai interrupted, "No one's stronger than you, Uncle Gaara. That's why they made you Kazekage."

Gaara gave a very rare, very tight smile.

"That's true enough," he said gently. "Although power such as mine comes at a great cost. When I was a child, I was little more than a weapon. An asset for my village." He paused. "I never want you to feel that way, Shikadai. Duty to one's village can only be bound in one direction; it cannot be forced. It is a responsibility that must come out of love, or else it will turn to poison in your heart. It was not until I learned this that I was deemed fit to become Kazekage. It isn't about power, Shikadai. It's about love."

Mirai's words came back to Shikadai. _That love for your Village – that's the most important thing._

But still, something did not add up. "So," began Shikadai carefully, "what are you saying, Uncle Gaara?"

Gaara watched him.

He lowered his gaze.

"I proposed the abolition of the Kazekage clan," he said. "The passage of the title along hereditary lines is an outdated practice. No other village retains such a tradition." He paused, once more looking up to catch Shikadai's eye. "The next Kazekage of the Hidden Sand should be the best candidate, no matter which family they are born into."

"Like the Hokage," offered Shikadai.

Gaara gave a slow nod. "Just like the Hokage."

There was a pause.

"Okay," said Shikadai, with a nod. "So what's the problem?"

Gaara watched him.

"To abolish the clan of Kazekage," he said simply, "is to disinherit you, Shikadai."

Shikadai didn't blink at him.

Leaning forward slightly, Gaara continued, "I know that this place is not your home. I know that while you love your mother and you care about myself and my brother, it is possible that you have no love for this village. I wouldn't blame you for that." He paused. "But if you desire the position of Kazekage," he said. "If you want it. Even if you think one day you just might." Gaara bowed his head slightly. "Then I will do everything within my power to defend your rightful inheritance. I will retain my position until it can be passed on to you. I promise you that, Shikadai."

There was a long, stunned silence.

For Shikadai, it was enough to learn a few days ago that he was heir to the Kazekage; and now to hear his uncle plainly tell him that he would sacrifice his own political goals for Shikadai's sake – it was incredible. Given the nature of the Hokage in the Hidden Leaf, Shikadai could hardly imagine such a system of heredity inheritance – and yet, deep within him stirred the wistful dream of power which possessed so many young nin of his age. Often he had heard others say that his father could have become a great Hokage, had it not been for his lack of motivation. Despite how much he longed to be like his father, Shikadai knew that the disposition he had inherited from his mother obscured these traits, made him powerful, determined, stubborn. He would make a very good Hokage, he decided. He would be a good leader, from a strong clan, who loved his village very much.

It struck him then, grimly. He loved his mother, and his uncles; he wanted to make them happy. He didn't want to cast away his heritage, and their home.

But Suna was not _his_ village.

A small smile tugged at Shikadai's lips. He looked up.

"Thanks, Uncle Gaara," he said, sincerely. "But if you kept it for me, then I wouldn't really have _earned_ it, would I? Besides," he added, his smile broadening to a grin, "that'd be a whole lot of responsibility. Sounds like a drag."

* * *

Not long after that, Shikadai had already made fast friends with several other children from the village. From the Kazekage's residence, Gaara stood with his sister and her husband, watching Shikadai laughing and playing on the street below them.

"Y'know," said Shikamaru, leaning against the railing lazily. His face was still bandaged, although he kept itching at it in annoyance. "You really cut it pretty close there during the ambush, Gaara. One of those assassins was coming straight for us. If you hadn't stopped that kunai with your sand, he wouldn't be around to play with those kids right now."

Gaara didn't answer this immediately. Temari's gaze wandered from her husband to her brother. She wondered if he hated even considering the thought of injury coming to Shikadai as much as she did.

Without looking up from Shikadai playing happily with the other children, Gaara spoke.

"Actually," he said mildly, "that wasn't me."

Temari's heart skipped a beat. Shikamaru's eyes widened.

Both parents looked down at their son, blissfully ignorant of the power running through his veins.


End file.
